Connection
by Ta-dah
Summary: The sky was positively perfect that day. A CharlieHermione fic. Bit fluffy, maybe?


**Disclaimer: **Yeah. I don't own it. Harry Potter and all. Because if I **did, **the rating would be entirely different.

**AN: **The more I write, the stronger is my belief in my utter incompetency. Geez.

Just something I wrote, quite a long time ago. A month, maybe...?

Havea happy life, all my fellow Charle/Hermione shippers!...And review, maybe?

_Connection_

She sat on an entirely uncomfortable and hard bench in the Burrow's backyard, her head resting against it in a lazy manner, her cinnamon eyes squinted and teary from the wind.

Even during a carefree moment like this, she couldn't stop her mind from working and analyzing.

It was known in general that Hermione Granger wasn't romantic in the least. It was as established a fact as the knowledge that Harry Potter didn't like crowds or that Ron Weasley was handsome _and _a lady-killer.

Dry facts.

Everybody, as she regarded the wizarding world, perceived her as harsh, responsible and _useful_, and hadn't gone to any length to know her in person. She was a hero – but a distant hero, and they were ready to accept her in near future as withered spinster, buried in books that were a joyful substitute to any erotic fantasies that could possibly form in her head.

It was the version for her pessimistic self. When she was in optimistic mode, she thought that everybody considered her just sensible, and thought her passionate, focused and idolized her in their own way. It was the way human were – they, themselves, no matter how hard they tried to remedy that, - were the true center of their world. Everybody wanted to be liked, cherished and someone you talked about in hushed tone. Even she. Especially she.

But even though Hermione Granger wasn't romantic, she still immensely liked romance books, and she still liked better moments where the **'I love you'** figured instead of **'Take me, now!', **although she sheepishly admitted she liked it together, a sappy version of her own life, when a bossy and snotty girl found an intelligent witty _and_ devilishly handsome man, already in love and obsessed with her. She knew that in reality, only dumb blondes or submissive, pretty and witty redheads could stand a chance, although she sometimes refused to accept it, indulging in such books.

Even though Hermione Granger wasn't romantic in general, it was just because she couldn't and _wouldn't _put her emotions into words. Because there were too many of them. And also, because her cynical self wouldn't afford it – it would make some witty comment, judge against it, and she would snigger at the cliché-ness of it all. She sometimes couldn't help it, and didn't want to ruin the moment, but she did it for fear of revealing herself.

At times like this, when Hermione Granger couldn't put her emotions into words, she put it into her work – and temper – instead.

The sky was lovely.

She read thousands of books, yet not in one could she find an accurate description of the beauty of the sky, whether it was dusk, dawn or an ordinary sunny day.

Today was June, sunny humid Thursday that slowly drew to an end, day that just begged to be seen from pavements and paths, and uncomfortable benches. Air was both humid and fresh, and smelled of water and holiday you spent during childhood, climbing the trees. It was unfortunate that whatever you had done such a day, how many things you've accomplished – you will always feel you've wasted it.

Currently, she resided at the Burrow, and the first week of her much needed – in her friends' opinion – vacation was ending. She wanted to travel the world, but Harry and Ron persuaded her to stay there, instead, and make up for the last year, when they were _too _busy. She was happy here, as she would be anywhere else, but she loved and missed her work all the same. Therefore, partially, she couldn't relax.

Of course, she absolutely loved the idea of Harry and Ginny deciding to marry. _Of course she did._

Of course, she didn't like Ron bringing one of his girlfriends home for the night. Of course, she didn't approve it. _Of course she didn't._

She shuddered every time she passed Percy's old romm, silent and untouched. It unnerved and saddened her, because it just reminded her of the night he died. It unnerved her because she knew it was only his fault, his fault in separating from the others, that night and at the very beginning, and she knew she was supposed to think that the fault was her. She just _didn't._

Aside from such minor obstacles, everything was great.

Twin's occasional visits amused her, no matter how hard she tried to hide and change it all these years.

Bill and Fleur's child had his charm and her looks. Everytime she looked at it, she was dangerously close to melting. The fact that it seemed to inherit their smooth arrogance really helped.

Charlie's careless manner and sarcastic comments seemed to vent the atmosphere – and it did help in family's quarels.

_All just because some of them were not **married **yet._

She felt at home here, if just the feeling would cease.

With her parents, she felt the connection. It was probably just out of love, and nothing could influence it. Sometimes, she shared it with Harry and on, when they starved together, feared tomorrow together, as they watched Harry on the dragon or felt wounded becuase of an insult someone threw, no matter how thick the mask they had was. She saw the emotions in them, and liked them better because of the silent similarity. She saw them human and _hers _then, and felt safe, saw no danger in being herself with them.

Nevertheless, here, no matter how much she liked the inhabitants, she hadn't felt it. Her best friends were mostly out of house, and she didn't feel at ease. She wished she could, wished she wasn't so _uptight_, so much.

With no one yet she shared such private emotions as when she stared at the sky. Occasionally, she would throw in a remark like 'the sky is beautiful' and no one would pay attention. She liked to think she waited for a special person to understand it, but, sadly, that wasn't the case. That never was a case. She just waited for a special moment, epiphany of some sorts. The depth of the emotions she wasn't sure she was ready to share.

She looked at the sky again. The war was over, birds were singing, she had vegetarian burgers and pumpkin juice for dinner, and now she had a while just for herself.

'Hey, Hermione.' Charlie asked from her right, stopping the warm, fresh breeze from caressing her longing shoulder.

Too late.

'I hope you don't mind me sitting here?'

'No, not at all.' She replied, noticing how he hadn't sat until she allowed him to.

'I just wanted to sit here for a while, you know? Just sit and relax.'

She startled and thought that maybe it waas _she _who invaded _his _place. No matter how old she was, she always had that case of proprietary places. Unspoken, though existing matter of owning some space.

'Yeah...' She muttered, her shoulder lightly touching his, due to the bench's little size.

They sat there staring into the sky, letting the wind envelop their faces and dying sun hug them one the last time, this time with a desperate and weakening force, leaving warm marks on their delicate skin, soothed by air.

Her eyes boldly seeked the horizont, the clouds barely there, a bit darker than the rest, almost transparent.

The sky was peachy, a bit pink and yellow, like a wondrous world, like Alice's Kingdom, out of their world, gates to some parallel universe, Zion, heaven, hell, _home._

She was positive none deserved that kind of sight to behold them, no matter how saint or noble they had been.

She could taste feathers on her lips, and she whirled on the canopy, wind blowing in her face.

Today the sky was smashing, but she thought that sky everyday was.

It was like some dust was in air, floating and filling people with bliss and longing, the orange in colour.

She sighed.

Just as another person did.

They looked at each other in surprise, not fast enough to cover raw emotions in their eyes.

And suddenly she felt the blissful, joyful knowledge of knowing _exactly _how the other person felt.

She smiled slowly, and her eyes lighted up.

'So, umm, what have you read lately?'

Oh, great. That was exactly the witty remark she was supposed to say.

Couldn't she say something along the lines of: _So, what had driven you out of the house? The Mum?_

He grinned back.

They were _home._


End file.
